


as long as you love me so (let it snow)

by azulaahai



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas fic, F L U F F, F/M, Fluff, Implied Past Abuse (though never explicitly talked about), Modern AU, Modern Westeros AU, bookshop au, seriously this is a fluffy christmas fic no more no less what you see is what you get, very inspired by 'The secret of happy ever after' by Lucy Dillon lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:46:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21783313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azulaahai/pseuds/azulaahai
Summary: Moving back North after an awful year, Sansa agrees to take over a bookshop in Mole's Town. In the busy holiday frenzy, one of the customers has Sansa tongue-tied and sweating even in the northern cold ...
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	as long as you love me so (let it snow)

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in my drafts, I think I wrote it for last christmas? Anyway I thought I'd post it and continue it (since I needed a little break from my other fic, which in turn is a break from my other writing lmao) my ambition is to be finished around christmas! It won't be overly long, I'm thinking 2 or 3 more parts.

It was all done.

Sansa looked around the book shop, unable to keep a proud smile from spreading across her lips. Not a trace could be found of the dark, gloomy shop she had walked into a few weeks back - Sansa had painted the walls mint green by herself, the new shelves were so much more inviting and with the help of a grumpy chimney sweep (Sansa was fascinated there even existed such a profession, but when she had tried to make a Santa Claus-related joke he’d just glared at her) she had even gotten the fireplace beside the register working. Firewood was stacked next to it, and although she was slightly nervous about a potential violation of safety regulations, the crackling of a fire was the perfect soundtrack to the already cozy book shop.

Best of all was, of course, the books. Classics and historical biographies filled the shelves alongside the new YA-trilogy that had everyone talking and Stephen King’s latest. Sansa had felt like a little girl again while purchasing the books, deciding which to stock and how to structure the shelves. She had let her gut feeling guide her, and at times self-doubt had reared it’s ugly head; she wasn’t trained in this, in business, sales or marketing. She had studied history, for fuck’s sake. What on earth was she doing running a shop, let alone one in a market on decline?

But looking around the shop now, the final evening before their opening, she knew she’d made the right decision when uncle Benjen had called, telling her he had purchased another shop in Mole’s town. A book shop, Benjen had said, as if the words felt strange in his mouth, an old one and not very profitable but a Mole’s town institution - would Sansa like to come and see if she could fix the place up a bit, run it for a few months over the holidays, just until Benjen decided what he should do with the shop? There was a small apartment above the store, so accommodation was part of the offer.

Sansa knew it had been a favor - a lifeline after her disastrous fall with Joffrey - charity, more or less. No one, not even her mother, actually believed she could run a successful book shop in this day and age.

Well, Sansa meant to prove them wrong.

She looked around one last time, a mixture between giddy- and nervousness rising within as she thought about the opening tomorrow, when the shop would be filled with customers for the first time since she took over. If anyone came, that was. Sansa pushed the thought away, and reluctantly tore her eyes from the shop before her, turning to head upstairs to her apartment.

The creaking of the steps beneath her had already become familiar.

Tomorrow would be a big day.

***

Sansa could scarce believe it. (Although Arya would taunt her to death about it if she knew, Sansa was tempted to think of it as a christmas miracle.) It was going far better than even she had hoped, and Sansa was a well-known optimist.

The shop had only been open for barely two weeks, but a steady flow of customers had showed up each day, and more than one had praised Sansa for the new look of the shop. Once the christmas shopping began for real, they would make a fortune. (A relative fortune.)Her shop had even gained regulars.

Alright, one regular.

He was about her age, chubby, with shy body language and kind eyes, and had come in almost every day for a week, buying something every time. Truly he seemed to love books, spending time just walking around the aisles, seemingly enjoying the feel of the place.

He was shy, indeed, but once Sansa asked him a question about the illustrated version of the tale of lady Jonquil and Florian that he was buying, the ice seemed to be broken. Sam, he said his name was. Sam Tarly.

Pretty soon they were chatting away about books every time he came up to the register, and Sansa began to look forward to their daily conversations. She adored Alys, the girl who worked extra in the shop on afternoons and weekends, but the girl didn’t come close to sharing Sansa’s love for stories. It was nice to have someone to talk about that with, and it seemed Sam thought so too.

When december was just around the corner, Sansa had an idea. She called Benjen (who was almost embarassingly proud (but of course claimed he was not at all surprised) of the book shop’s succesful opening weeks) and arranged for a contract, and one day when Sam came in she asked the question.

“Sam. I’ve been thinking …” She paused. Hm. She had never done this before - Alys had been Benjen’s hire - and she felt strangely nervous. Sam looked at her, curious. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to work here, for me? You know the place better than I do at this point.” Not very professional to blurt it out like that, perhaps. She would have to work on that. But judging from the way Sam lit up, he didn’t mind.

“Really?”

“Yes, of course. Now, the pay wouldn’t be anything to write home about …” Sansa hesitated. He was studying, she knew by now. Perhaps he didn’t have the time.

“Oh, that’s fine.” Sam’s radiant smile freed her of any doubts about his availability. “I would love to.”

“I didn’t tell you the schedule yet.”

“I don’t care. I’ll work nights if I have to.”

“Shake on it?”

“Shake on it.”

They shook on it.

Sansa went to bed that night feeling a true entrepreneur.

She was Sansa fucking Stark, a book shop owner with two subordinates.

She was making herself proud.

When she woke up the next morning, the first lasting snow of the year awaited her outside the shop.

***

“I’m just _saying_ that if you are buying her that she might think you are a sociopath.” The voice was Sam’s, Sansa noted with confusion. That was not usually how he spoke to customers - Sam had proven to be charm personified even under pressure, and more than well-suited for the job, to Sansa’s delight. But now, as she hurriedly headed downstairs to the shop after having overslept, Sam was talking rather rudely to someone in the mystery and crime-section. Sansa began making her way there, the shelves hiding both Sam and the customer from her sight.

“It’s a book, Sam.” An unfamiliar, deep voice answered.

“It’s awful. You have horrible taste. Never expect my help ever again if this is what you’re choosing.”

”This is the type of stuff she likes!”

Sansa finally found them amongst the shelves - could see Sam, who had his back turned to her, standing next to a stranger.

”_Ygritte_? She does martial arts, Jon! And she _cried_ when you took her to see _The Last of the Giants_. Why on earth do you think she would appreciate this terrible book about a middle aged man murdering his wife?”

”Spoilers”, the customer muttered, but he seemed resigned now, defeated. ”Fine. You win, you monster. Take me to the _amazing _two-thousand page books that Ygritte will never read and tease me about for all eternity.”

”With pleasure.” Sam turned around, seemingly to take the lead to a different section. When he saw Sansa standing there he froze in the middle of the step, looking like a kid getting caught pinching their younger sibling, his cheeks burning bright red. 

”Oh … erhm, good morning, Sansa.”  
  
”Morning, Sam”, she said, not sure how to handle this strange situation, especially not this early in the day when she hadn’t had breakfast. ”Sorry I’m late. The shipment get here on time?”

”Yeah, it’s in the storage. Sansa, this is my friend Jon. He’s just here buying a book for his girlfriend.” He gestured to the man beside him, who looked rather awkward.  
  
He had dark hair of the kind that made you want to run your fingers through it, grey eyes that gave him a haunted, mysterious look. Sansa instantly mistrusted him. A bad habit of hers that had begun after Joffrey - she always mistrusted those she found attractive.

”Hello, Jon”, she said formally, extending a hand as if they were in a business meeting. He shook it - good handshake. Damn it. ”Nice to meet you. I’m Sansa. I run the shop.”

”It’s a nice place”, Jon mumbled. Was he shy? ”I like what you’ve done with it.”

”Thanks. Uhm, Sam, I’ll go sort that order if you handle the register?” It was almost cowardly, retreating to the storage room to hide from human interaction and firm handshakes and grey eyes. But when Sam nodded reassuringly Sansa fled nevertheless, with a stiff smile at this Jon.

* * *

Sansa kept busy. Focusing on the shop, on incomes and sales, on books, new releases and special offers they could do without having to declare bankruptcy, was an effective way to keep unwanted thoughts and feelings at bay. She had moped over Joffrey so, so long, and when moving up to Mole’s Town she’d sworn to herself that she would leave all that behind. 

In a sense, it had worked; when the first day of December finally arrived and the christmas frenzy began for real, Sansa no longer felt that aching sadness that had been her constant companion those first few months post-Joffrey. But, less encouragingly, it wasn’t true happiness that had replaced it - she felt more hollow now, a little empty, and small happinesses like a nice interaction with a customer, or uncle Benjen sending flowers on the shop’s one month anniversary, _did_ make her glad. Truly they did. Just not … lastingly.

So when Margaery called Sansa to tell her she was coming North to visit her before going to Highgarden to spend christmas there, it was exactly what Sansa needed. In fact, she had to remain quiet for a few seconds after Marg made the announcement, because it felt like she was going to cry if she tried to speak.  
  
”Sansa? Are you there? Did I freak you out? I won’t come if you don’t want me to!”

”No”, Sansa said, and she’d been right - it did come out more as a sob than a word. ”No, please come, Marg.”

”I have to see this new shop of yours I’ve heard so much about.” Margaery’s voice was soft.

”It’s not really _my_ shop.” Sansa nervously tapped her fingers againsther kitchen table.  
  
”You run it, you modest asshole.” She could her Margaery’s smirk.

”I … Fine. Come see _my_ shop.”

”I’d love to go see _your_ shop.”

”I miss you.”

”Miss you too. In a week, then, she-wolf.” Sansa snorted at the old nickname, and answered in turn.

”Can’t wait, rose.” 

* * *

It was a day or so later when - in a classic Mole’s Town snowstorm that in any other place would have called for a societal shutdown, but up here was only seen as a regular winter day - that Sansa saw Jon for the second time.

It was just her and Alys, that day - the latter taking a well-earned break in the break room after putting up beautiful strings of indoor christmas lights throughout the shop - and Sansa was alone out in the store, standing behind the register while reading the latest addition in _The Aegon Chronicles _that she had placed on the counter. She looked up when the bell at the door announcing a new customer arriving, surprised - Sansa’d thought the snow storm would make business slow, but they’d just opened and here was someone at the door.

When she recognized who it was - Jon, Sam’s friend, bundled up in a black coat and a matching scarf and exuding a strange, chaotic energy Sansa couldn’t quite explain - she was tempted to call for Alys to let her handle this. _Coward_.

  
”Hi!” she said, her voice sounding strangely high-pitched to her own ears. ”You’re Sam’s friend. Jon, right?” 

He just looked at her. Was it creepy that she recalled his name? Sansa felt herself blush.

”How can I help you today?” she tried again.

”Uhm”, Jon said, fumbling with the buttons of his coat to reveal a plastic bag he’d seemingly been keeping there to keep it safe from the raging snow storm, ”I’d like to return this?”

He took a book out of the bag. Sansa recognized it immediately - it was one of Sam’s favorites, a new edition.  


”Oh. Uhm, do you have the receipt?”

He got out a wallet and handed her the receipt with a strangely determined look on his face. Sansa almost felt like laughing. Almost.

The silence was deafening as she fumbled with the computer to return the book, still not completely comfortable with the system. It was so quiet, Sansa felt she had to make some sort of small talk, a decision she was soon to regret.

  
”So …” she waved with the book. ”You changed your mind? Sam will be devastated.”

  
Jon forced a smile that looked more as if she’d told him he had a week to live. For some strange, unknown reason, Sansa kept talking, while still trying to reason with the fucking god-forgotten computer system.

”Was it the thousands of pages that seemed intimidating? I mean … not that you’re like … uhm, I’m the same way! There’s nothing wrong with that, obviously. Not wanting to read long books, I mean.” 

He stared at her. Sansa wanted to die. She still hadn’t figured out how to return the book.

”I …” Jon began, clearing his throat. ”Well, Sam picked it out for my girlfriend, and we just broke up.”

A simple answer. So honest it left her blinking.

”Oh - I’m sorry.”

And Sansa had thought the silence _before_ awkward. _This_ silence felt like it was eating her alive. This silence was a boulder rolling down a mountain hitting her in full force. And the goddamn computer system had abandoned her completely.

”Alys!” she in the end called out in desperation. When Alys showed up in the doorway behind the counter, Sansa wanted to weep from gratitude.   
  
”This is Sam’s friend, Jon. He wants to return this book but I can’t seem to figure out how”, she blurted out, smiling in a way that had to appear mad. 

Alys returned the book in a second.

Jon thanked them and left.

The bell above the door rang as he went out into the snow storm.


End file.
